


ashes to ashes, dust to dust

by efreet (orphan_account)



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Gender Neutral Character, Genocide Route, POV Second Person, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-14
Updated: 2015-10-14
Packaged: 2018-04-26 10:38:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5001505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/efreet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The dust coats your shirt, your shoes. It’s everywhere, creating hazy clouds wherever you walk, making you cough. But you don’t stop.</p>
            </blockquote>





	ashes to ashes, dust to dust

The first time it happens, you don’t really understand. You’re trekking your way through the Ruins, and you’re exhausted. Your fingers are tight around the stick you brought with you, and your palm is slippery with sweat. You’ve wrapped your bandage around one of your many sluggishly bleeding scrapes, but it doesn’t help much. You’re so tired.

You nearly trip over a Vegetoid, and then you really do trip trying to avoid its attack. You land hard on your knees, and for a second you think you’re out of HP. But no, it only feels like you’re too exhausted to get up. You push yourself to your feet.

The Vegetoid prepares another round of projectiles, and you’re too tired to dodge them all. You’ll probably lose this fight, and for a second you think that might not be so bad. At least you’ll be fully healed when you wake up. You take a step back, and brace yourself for the inevitable.

Except it never comes. Your arm moves. You swing the stick. (Later, you wonder if it was your idea. If you were the one who killed the first time, or if it was...something else.)

And then you’re standing in front of a pile of dust.

You blink several times. You’re still as exhausted as before, but you feel something…different. Something that keeps your legs moving, your arm poised. You’re stronger than you were before.

It feels good.

You keep going. You keep swinging. The dust coats your shirt, your shoes. It’s everywhere, creating hazy clouds wherever you walk, making you cough. But you don’t stop. You find yourself craving that feeling of strength, that rush you feel after a battle.

You even backtrack, wiping out every monster that crosses your path. The dust on your palms won’t come off by wiping your hands on your shorts anymore.

_It doesn’t matter,_ something whispers within you. _Keep going. You’ll get stronger, and stronger. Nothing will stop you._

You nod to yourself.

Nothing will stop you.

You keep walking. You replace your stick with a plastic knife. It’s less than impressive, but it gets the job done. Your clothes are stained gray by now, but you ignore the uncomfortable, dry feeling in favor of plunging the knife into whatever you can find.

It’s so much better than limping through the hallways, trying to dodge everything that comes your way. It’s so much _easier_.

Toriel still welcomes you into her home, and for a moment you almost regret what you’ve done. She’s so sweet and caring, and the bedroom she gives you is…nostalgic. It doesn’t look anything like your room on the surface, but it feels familiar.

You wander around the house, peeking through doors and examining plants. You sneak a piece of pie from the kitchen, and open a drawer, searching through the silverware.

_Where are the knives_ , wonders something within you. You shiver, and slam the drawer shut. Was that your thought? Are you really that bloodthirsty? You’re not sure, but you nearly run back to Toriel’s side, seeking something comfortable and warm.

But when you ask Toriel how to get out of the Ruins, she refuses to answer. The more you pester her, the more she deflects--until finally, she gets up and leaves the room entirely.

Your fists clench.

_She’s trying to trap us here_ , you think. _It was all an act. She never loved us. She never cared._

You’re so distracted you ignore how you’ve started thinking in plurals. You don’t even notice the dusty footprints you’re leaving all over the house as you search the rooms for her.

Finally, you pound down the stairs and see Toriel standing at the end of yet another hallway.

You’re angry, and hurt. When Toriel tries to fight you, it just confirms your suspicions. She never cared for you. You don’t hold back when you swing the toy knife.

_Now I see who I was protecting by keeping you here_ , Toriel says, sinking to her knees before you. _Not you…but them!_ She laughs, a strangled, despairing sound.

It sends a chill through your spine.

But it doesn’t stop you from pushing the doors open, stepping through the dust and into the darkness beyond.

This time, you don’t cough when you breathe in.

 

**Author's Note:**

> i started writing this because i wanted to explore a little bit of how the bad time route worked in terms of frisk and chara sharing a body. i might want to continue this, but i'm not sure! for now i'll leave it unfinished. (EDIT: for now i'm going to say this work is complete! maybe i'll continue it one day, but probably not for a while?) 
> 
> thanks for reading!


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